Scarecrows don’t frighten me nor do their empty threads.
Escape from a moving transport truck? I can’t–I’m a freight.
If I tell you I’m afraid of apple orchards, will you tell me to grow a pear?
I fear both men and women. I’m a hermafraidite.
What did the truckload of sheep say to the ghost?
“We’re a freight of ewe!”
When I accidentally Fed-exed myself, I was very much a freight of the consequences.
I’m afraid of winter. I don’t indoors going outside.
Baby Boomers hate denim, because they’re afraid of a jean.
I’m afraid of pie charts. I have agraphobia.